Cohabitation
by Fallen Ark Angel
Summary: Steph and Paul aren't living together. Until they are. Kinda like how they weren't dating. Until they were. And weren't in love. Until they were. And, wow, he's starting to notice a pattern. - One-shot.


Stephanie more or less moved in with him during his quad injury.

Which, considering she still had shows to attend to and meetings and such, didn't mean a lot.

It was just easier, they both decided, if when she wasn't working, his place was where she went back to rather than her apartment in a completely other state that she, mostly, treated more as a storage place that she split with a roommate she never saw.

"She, like, steals all my shit. I know she does," Steph would frequently complained. Paul would only grin though and laugh, which would piss her off and cause her to continue to explain. "I'm serious! Any makeup I leave at the apartment is always gone and that's not cheap. At all. And then I'm always finding my clothes in weird places and-"

"Does she have sex in your room?"

"W-What?"

"She's not a really bad roommate," he told her once, "until she has sex on your bed."

"Has that...happened to you?"

"It happened to a friend of mine."

"Let me guess; _your_ roommate?"

"Hey, he shouldn't have gotten such a nice bed if he didn't plan on me at least trying it out once."

"You're such a jerk."

Maybe.

Still, the decision for Steph to officially move in with Paul was staged to look, in certain ways, as if it were for the better of him.

Which it was. In some ways.

He wasn't in the best of places during '01 and it was probably good for him to have someone around more often than not. He'd recently moved into an apartment all on his own and, at the very least, her being around gave him something to be aggravated at other than his injury.

Because, boy, she was aggravating.

Steph required a lot of...attention, to say the least. She tried to pretend like she didn't and would frequently act as if she wasn't pissy if he had something to do that didn't involve her or when he'd flat out tell her that they needed some space; she should go do something for herself.

He didn't feel as if she was possessive. Just...needy. Confirmation was a big deal with her. She liked to know for sure, back when they first started secretly seeing one another, that yes, he was truthfully interested in her. She'd question him on it in what he was certain she thought were vague ways, but he knew what she was doing.

Paul would admit, it was a rather simple situation for him to abuse. Weasel his way in with Steph and, bam, Vince would be in his back pocket.

He used to hate when she'd imply that with her questions, but would only answer in the best way that he could that he couldn't give two shits about the company; he liked being with her. Back then, it was as simple as that.

Even after all that though, Paul found Stephanie, at times, to be quite annoying with just the amount of time she wanted to spend together. Nearly all of it. He found her obsessive, originally, but slowly saw it more as her truly, honestly, being into him on a level that he himself hadn't ever been interested in another person.

That was probably one of the things working so closely to each other helped though. If they hadn't had to be around one another so often, the interest probably would have worn off. But they were forced together and, due to that, found a lot of things they both equally enjoyed and could bond over.

Other than, you know, sleeping together. Because after they did that, for a little while there, it was pretty much all either of them wanted to do.

Which is to say, with him out of commission in '01 and therefore her spending time with other people, it would have been easy for her interest to wane. She was definitely an out of sight, out of mind kind of person back then. They were, after all, young.

He probably wouldn't have been the best boyfriend either, all alone, in that apartment. Something would have caught his interest eventually. Or, rather, someone.

It would just...happen. And neither could get too peeved about it.

But it didn't. Because she did move in.

They debated it for a bit first, however. Steph had this whole matter of fact ideal of what it would be like for them to live together, but she'd never shared an apartment with a man before.

"I just," she told him one night over the phone as she was in some hotel after a taping of Smackdown and he was lying in his own bed, mostly bored and lonely, "am tired of my roommate."

And that was the start of the conversation. Before it was ever brought up if she'd live with him or not, they started with her roommate. And that night, Steph had had it with the other woman.

"What's wrong, princess?" he asked, holding the phone to his ear as he rested on his back. "She finally fuck in your bed?"

"I swear, Paul, you are the only one that has ever done that to someone."

"The trick is, you gotta leave the condom in between the sheets so he _knows_ that you did it."

Stephanie, though she wanted to get back to her own situation, did have a question.

"But what if he thinks that it's just one of his from when he was…with a woman and... That he just didn't throw it away or… Why are we talking about this again?"

"Babe," Paul told her in his authoritative tone. "Men keep track of their fuckin' condoms. You know when that shit pops, you know when you're going to trick her and not really use one-"

"Can we stop talking about this? Please? And tell me you don't do that."

"Fuck no." He heard her shift on the bed and could practically picture her disgusted face. "Can't have kids running around all over the states. I'm not father material."

"At all."

That got a frown out of him as, mostly, he'd been joking, but her tone sounded a tad serious. Letting out a breath, he said, "Well, anyways-"

"Anyways," Steph picked right back up, "I just can't take her anymore. I did that thing you told me to do, you know, put a lock on my room when I'm gone?"

"Uh-huh."

"She picked it! She had to have. Or something. Because when I went in there, when I went home a few days ago, stuff was all switched around again and-"

"Stephanie, I think it might be time to consider you have a ghost."

"Paul-"

"Or that you need to move out."

"And move out where?"

"I dunno, princess. How about your own place? Surely Daddy Vince can set that up, can't he?"

"My dad doesn't just, like, hand me out money, Paul." Her annoyance was turned towards him then. "And you know that."

"I hear that, but-"

"He doesn't."

"Alright, fine, he doesn't."

"Honest."

"But," the man kept up, because it was late and he knew their conversation was dying, so he was milking her telephonic company for all it was worth, "I'm sure he'd make an exception."

"I'm sure you don't know my father."

"Oh, I got to know him pretty damn well, the last few months."

"And besides," Steph went on, "I think he'd just tell me that I should ask my loaded boyfriend for help. You know, the one that he still kinda treats like a stab in the back that I have?"

"Your loaded boyfriend's sitting up in an apartment he can barely afford, unable to fucking walk making the man loaded, so-"

"I'm joking."

So was he. Sort of.

"I don't make that much, Steph."

"I know."

"And I just got this place," he added one more time. "And-"

"We're just dating," she assured him. "I'd never ask you to loan me money. Especially money I knew I couldn't pay you back."

"I just got a lot going on right now."

"I know. I'm sorry."

"You don't have to be sorry, Steph. And if that bitch is stealing your shit-"

"She's such a bitch. You don't even know."

"-then you should find somewhere else to live."

Stephanie, as she typically did with big decisions, started to walk back her statements then. "W-Well, I don't know if she's really-"

"Babe, I like you, a lot, but if you're about to give credence to that crack I made about ghosts, things might not work out between us."

"I just...I dunno."

"Well, I do know. And you can say up and down that your father won't help you out, but I know it's bullshit. That man would let you do practically anything."

"Except tank his company."

"I dunno. I feel like he felt like me and you fucking would tank it just a bit and that's going on."

"Why do you use that word so much?" He wished he was with her then, to watch her make that disgusted face.

"Too vulgar for you, princess?"

"No, but-"

"Good." He let out a long breath. "So, you talk to your father and-"

"I'm not going to do that, Paul."

"Stephanie-"

"I'm hardly even ever home. I'm constantly on the road for shows or my father has me going places and-"

"Yeah, I know what you mean." He gave up then on convincing her otherwise. If she wasn't that upset about it then he wasn't going to waste his timing being so. "I'm so bored, home all the time. I always kinda would bitch about that part of things, always being on the run, but it made things more fun, I think. Even when I was just starting out and it was hell to scrape together cash for a motel room and food was killer and… But it really adds to it all, you know?"

"Yeah. I get it." Steph shifted again and he held his breath, thinking for sure she was getting ready to hang up and that would just be it, the end to his night, but then she kept talking. "I mean, other than the not having money for food and motels though because-"

"Because Daddy Vince-"

"I'll jump through the phone and choke slam you, Paul, I swear."

Grinning to himself, he only said, "I just wish I could fix your problem for you. That's all."

Which was a stupid thing to say on his part, but he wasn't thinking. At all.

Stephanie, however, heard that sentence differently than how he meant it and asked, "Do you mean that?"

"Well, yeah. Of course, Steph."

"Like...I could… I dunno. Start leaving some of my stuff over at your place?"

Rather tired, he wasn't catching on well. "You already do, babe. But if you mean you want to leave more shit over here and away from that no good bitch-"

"She really is."

Encouraged then, he quickly began again, "If you wanna leave stuff over here to keep it from that filthy, disgusting, dirty, brutal, busted, bottom feeding, trash bag ho- Oh, wait, that would be you."

"Paul-"

"You can," he finished finally. "Leave stuff over here, I mean. With me. If that's what you want."

"Well, that would be silly, you know? Because then I'd be paying for the place, but all my stuff would be with you." Then, as if unsure, she added, "And I'm sorta with you too, a lot. Instead of at home, when I have a chance."

"Yeah." He let out a breath at that. "You've been a real big help, Steph."

Looking back, he figured she probably thought he was purposely being dense, but honestly, he wasn't. It hadn't occurred to him that they should move in together. Not once. It was one thing to be sleeping with the boss's daughter, but to move her in with him, well, that felt like a major encroachment. And Vince would want to have a _talk_ with him again, which he hated, because Paul had very little reason outside of the man's resistance to his and Steph's relationship to honestly dislike the old guy, but damn.

Just damn.

"And you like me coming over, right? Every chance I get? Without hardly ever going to my place?"

It was probably about there that he started to have an inkling that they were on two different pages.

"Uh, yeah, of course," he said slowly. "Should I not? I mean-"

"It's just…well… If I left my stuff with you-"

"Instead of that filthy, disgusting, dirty-"

"-and I was also not going back to the apartment, but rather your place, when I wasn't in a hotel," Steph went on speaking right over him, "it'd kinda be like, you know, we were...living together."

But would it though?

Yes. Why, yes, it would.

Paul got a bit spooked at the implication. The last time he'd lived with a woman, not too long ago, things hadn't ended quite well. Steph could tell too that she hadn't said the right thing and, as he quickly told her goodnight after that, citing that his head was starting to hurt and he needed to get some rest, she thought she'd screwed up royally.

They didn't talk that morning, like they usually would. She'd typically call him after getting ready for the day and they'd just talk about, well, nothing, like they usually did, until she had to leave for work or he had something else to do.

That afternoon though, about the time that she figured he'd be eating lunch, she did give him a call. When she got his answering machine, she about hung up, but decided to leave a message and tell him that, hey, last night she was just tired and that was all, so forget all about it and, oh, she was kinda free Friday and was going to drive down to see him, but if he didn't want her to, that was fine, because-

"You have got to give me a sec to get to the phone, woman," cut her off in the middle of the message. "I'm on crutches, you know."

Steph blushed too, sinking lower into the seat of her car. She was sitting outside of the hotel, about to leave, and wasn't so sure what to do then. Though she didn't want to admit it, she had kind of been hoping that he'd not pick up and that he was mad at her, so it would give her some time to regain her confidence around the man. It had been cracked, just a bit, and speaking with him in such a state wasn't going to help much.

"Sorry," she got out. "I was just-"

"Friday? You can be here then?"

"W-Well, yeah. I thought I'd drive down Thursday night, get there Friday morning, and then we'd have until Sunday together. I have to get back by-"

"Yes. Come." He swallowed a bit then. "Can you pick me up some shit on the way?"

Of course. Always.

So that's how they found themselves that Friday morning, around four, to be exact, Steph exhausted and him mostly just glad she'd brought him some more protien shakes, and neither would have wished to be anywhere else.

Stephanie wanted to go to bed, where he had been anyways, while awaiting her, which they did immediately.

That morning however, the actual morning, they had a talk.

You know, the one Steph had kinda sorta hoped they never would.

"It's not that I don't want you here," he said simply as she made breakfast and he mostly sat at the table, watching. "You know that. I like having you here. It's just… There's a lot happening all at once for me."

"I know."

"And-"

"I just thought that… Well, I do come here, like, every single time I get a chance to," she said slowly, glancing away from the stove and over at him. "I never go home anymore, not really, unless I need something. And even then… Never mind, I guess. It was stupid. I know. And-"

"It wasn't stupid. You do give up a lot, to come here to see me. I know that. You-"

"I don't give anything up." She blushed down at the eggs she was scrambling. "At all. I like being here with you. More than I like being anywhere else. That's why I do it, Paul."

He had been tapping his fingers against the table, but paused at that before saying, "You can leave stuff here, Steph. Alright?"

Nodding slowly, she agreed with a soft, "'kay."

So maybe it wasn't all her that led to her slow, but sure arrival into his apartment. As more and more of her stuff found its home in his place, ranging from clothes to her coffee table (she was astounded when he told her that he had no plans to ever buy one), plates, coffee pot (his sucked), and, of course, all those junky little trinkets that women had (pictures; they were damn pictures; he just called them trinkets though), it was growing increasingly clear that she very much so did live there.

Which they'd discussed on more than one occasion. Usually when Steph was about to send money down to her roommate for the rent. Or she'd talk about how annoyed the woman was when Steph took her stuff from the apartment and was questioning whether or not she was even still living there (though rent checks frequently shut her up).

Either way, he'd try to evade the question and, eventually, Stephanie would give up.

It wasn't until, one month, when she literally didn't go home once during the duration of it, that finally Paul mumbled something about maybe she should think about not renewing her lease and starting to help him out on his.

This was spawned on in part as well, however, by the fact that his rehab was going great and he was speeding towards stepping into the ring once more. Stephanie wouldn't need to come by his place when that happened anymore, just to see him. She still would, of course, when they just wanted to be together, but it wouldn't be necessary.

And he wanted her to stay there. For her things to stay there. Even if he did kinda turn down all the creepy photos of Vince when he had a chance.

This went over swimmingly with Steph, but the man whose company he was hoping to make a huge splash in once more wasn't too thrilled by it. And, in another month, once it was all official and there Steph would be, every free chance they had to get back to the apartment, Vince found it best to just simmer in silence.

The promised return of Triple H and what that would bring for his company was worth letting go of the very few reigns he had left on his daughter.

At least somewhat.

Not that the adjustment didn't come without ups and downs. Because it certainly did. There was just something to the idea of the place no longer being fully his and rather _theirs_ that put Paul on edge. Their romance, at time, felt rather whirlwind, but officially moving in together could strike a nail right through that.

He thought, honestly, that the two of them would get a bit tired of one another. Finally. After all that time, it would finally wear thin. Steph's neediness had begun to die down in the past few months, overridden, rather, with worry over him and his injury as well as that swell desire to nurse him back to health that he enjoyed so much. And, though he figured that should be a welcome thing, it kinda left their relationship in a rather precarious way.

Her desire to be around him constantly brought them together at the start. His injury and need of her assistance, as well as her willingness to give it, had kept them together.

With both of those gone, however, what was left?

Something new. Different. Commitment, of course, but that had been proven just by Steph sticking with him and him allowing himself to be stuck with, when he got hurt. No. As his return loomed ever near and they were very much so living together, there was something else that was holding them to one another.

It came to him, one night as they were sitting on the couch, her talking on the phone to her mother about something and him watching a football game as his muscles, a bit sore from the intense workouts he had going on, ached. Steph kept reaching over though, multitasking between talking with her mother about something her sister-in-law had said and flipping the magazine in her lap as well as randomly griping at the refs on the television, because if anyone knew how to bark at referees, it was her. And when she'd reach over, she'd just run her hand up his arm, to his shoulder, where she'd rub for a moment, before going back to barking, talking, or flipping. Every thirty seconds though, his shoulders would get a nice rub again.

"-uh-huh," she was saying at one point, as the game went to commercial and he just sat there, staring down at her. "I know, Mom. Yeah. He's here. We're watching the game. I- No. I didn't know that. When did she say that?"

Steph was clearly very into her phone conversation, which Paul didn't want to interrupt, but when she moved to rub his arm once more, he shifted away, causing her to glance at him. The man's face was blank, but he didn't seem annoyed with her as he moved to wrap an arm around her shoulders, leaning down to press a kiss to her head.

Linda was still talking, on the phone, but Steph held it away from her ear a bit as she stared up at her boyfriend.

 _'What?'_ she mouthed with a frown though Paul only pulled her closer.

"I just… I love you." Then he grinned, but it felt awkward to him and seemed even more so to her. Looking back at the television as the game came back, he said, "That's all."

But that wasn't all. Not even close.

"Steph?" That came from the phone. "Are you still there?"

Still glancing up at her boyfriend, she only put the phone back to her ear before saying, "Paul needs something, Mom. I'll call you back in the morning, alright?"

"You didn't have to hang up," he said, glancing down at her. "I really didn't want any-"

"You love me?"

"Ugh." He literally groaned and grabbed the remote from his lap, just to turn the television up louder. "Don't act like a little bitch about it. I wouldn't have said it if-"

"I love you too."

He only moved to pat her on the head before letting his arm fall around her again. "I know, Steph."

"Then-"

"I just," he grumbled, "thought it should be said."

Nuzzling up against him, she caught his eyes then as she smiled real big. "And I just want you to know that I- Holding? That's fucking holding?"

Paul's eyes widened as Steph turned away from him to glare at the television. He would never get used to just how angry a simple game could make her.

"Uh, Steph? You were saying?"

"I'm saying that if that's holding then I would love to know what the hell the other teams been doing for the past-"

"You're too much for me." He hugged her back to him once more, getting a glance up at him. "You know that?"

Moving to set the magazine on the coffee table along with the cordless phone, Steph settled into his side as she said, "I think I'm just enough."

And by the time he did return to the ring that January, any concerns over what it would do to he and Steph's relationship was all, but forgotten. He did, after all, have a lot more to contend with. And even once their storylines were completely diverged of one another, they both managed to find free time together.

Plus, it was rather nice, he found, when he'd arrive back at the apartment to find her there. Or when she'd arrive late at night and snuggle up to him in bed, waking him up just enough so they could exchange soft moans and gentle kisses before they drifted off again.

Not to mention she cleaned. That was one of those things that she was super serious about.

Mostly though, Paul just found himself glad to be around her. Not just someone. Her. Stephanie. He liked the way she would laugh too loudly at her own jokes, the way she'd scold him for watching too much television before joining right in, the way she pretended to enjoy his music (though he knew most of it she just didn't), and, even, the way that she screamed so passionately at the refs during the few Patriots games they were able to catch on TV, what with how busy they typically were.

The thing he loved most, however, were the late nights where he'd either spent the entire day working or working out and was exhausted. He had a bad habit of taking up too much of the bed and, as Steph went to bed later than him typically, would forget all about her and her needs of space.

Steph would grumble though, softly, as not to wake him, before just curling up in whatever way she could fit, whether it was resting against or atop him. Part of her had a glimmering that, sometimes, it was done on purpose, but she never called him out on it.

One night, they were at a hotel and Smackdown had involved him in a major way, so she wasn't the least bit shocked when, after coming out of the bathroom, she found him already asleep. She was a bit shocked, admittedly, to find him spread eagle on his stomach, snooring loudly, but what could you do?

It was hot out which meant Paul slept atop the sheets and only in his boxers (sometimes; others, he'd go au naturel). So, with the little space she had on the bed, Stephanie curled up against him, her head resting on his lower back, hoping her body heat wasn't too much for him to bear.

It never was.

She stroked his back a bit, less tired and more bored, as well as pressed kisses to it a few times. This eventually annoyed the wrestler, who only gronaed before, rather uncomfortably, rolling over, her having to lift up a bit to allow that.

"What's wrong?"

"Nothin'." Steph settled low on him again, her head resting on his abdomen. Staring down, she couldn't take her eyes off the long scar left right above his kneecap. Reaching down, she gently ghosted a finger over it. "I just wanted to be close."

"Didn't give you much of a choice."

"By design?"

"Mmmhmm."

Giggling softly, she shut her eyes before saying, "I'm not tired, Paul."

"At all?"

"At all."

"You're probably overly-tired."

"Maybe."

Silence. For a bit. Then,

"Hey, Steph?"

She kept her eyes shut. "Hmmm?"

"Just… Thanks."

"For what?"

"I dunno. Just… You know, helping me with my quad and coming back and... Everything."

Smiling softly, she said, "I didn't do everything, so I can't be thanked for it."

"You're my everything. So I can thank you for being that."

"You're the one that sounds overly-tired," she accused, tilting her head back to stare up at him, even opening her eyes once more. "You know that?"

"What? I can't love my woman?"

"You can. You just usually don't so vocally. And not about something so far removed."

Grunt. Shutting his own eyes, he let out a slow breath before saying, "You gonna go to the gym with me in the morning? Steph? Or are you-"

"Always." She let out that long breath then, that one that she always did before she drifted off, and he knew they were done for a bit. "Always."


End file.
